


We Are The Dead

by Miko



Series: We Shall Keep The Faith [7]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Torture, Love Triangles, Open Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Regrets, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 19:55:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3908608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko/pseuds/Miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After seventy years, Steve is finally going to get to have that dance. It could be the fulfillment of his dreams - so why does it feel like it might be the fulfillment of his nightmares?</p><p>It was never supposed to be this damned complicated.</p><p> </p><p>This fic should be read in sequence with the rest of the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Are The Dead

In his time, Steve had faced some pretty formidable foes. The Red Skull had started it all, of course. Loki had been bad enough, but his Chitauri army was something else again. And Ultron... surely there was nothing more intimidating than a seemingly inexhaustible stream of vicious robots.

None of them had been able to take Steve down in the end, though it had been a close call in quite a few of those cases. Now, he’d apparently encountered an enemy worse than all of them, because he was being utterly defeated.

By his God damned _tie_.

Cursing under his breath, he stripped the knot out and straightened the two ends in preparation to try again. He’d been at this for at least ten minutes already and had yet to produce a knot that was passable. “How many hundreds of times have you done this before, Rogers,” he ranted at the image of himself in the mirror as he carefully wrapped the large end around the smaller one. “You should be able to do it in your sleep. What the Hell is wrong with you?”

“Your hands are shaking, that’s why you can’t get it straight.”

Natasha’s voice was unexpected; he hadn’t realized she was even in his suite. Steve jumped a little, and of course that made the knot go awry again. Sighing, he started unravelling it once more. “I know I gave you the door code, but usually you knock first.”

Her reflection was already smiling at him, but now the expression took on an edge of sly amusement he was all too familiar with. “I did. Twice. When you didn’t answer I figured I’d better come in and make sure you hadn’t talked yourself out of going after all. Good thing I did, apparently.”

She crooked a finger at him, and when he turned around she brushed his hands away and started making the knot. Her motions were smooth and confident; clearly it wasn’t the first time she’d done this for someone. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this nervous.”

“I guess I just want it to be perfect. I mean, I did make her wait seventy years, I’ve got a lot to make up for.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the entire truth. Steve didn’t want to admit the real reason his hands were trembling - he couldn’t shake the memory of the vision Wanda Maximoff had forced on him, and it made this whole thing feel like a disaster looming over him. He’d never told Natasha what he’d seen, and she’d never volunteered anything about her own experience. 

Some things just weren’t meant to be discussed.

“There.” Natasha snugged the knot up to sit nestled between his collarbones where it belonged, and when Steve checked in the mirror, it looked flawless. 

“ _Thank_ you.” There were probably other things Steve had been more grateful for in his life; in the grand scheme of things, a well tied tie was pretty low on his overall priorities. But at the moment it seemed like she’d just helped him over the biggest obstacle he’d ever faced.

“Why the dress uniform?” she wanted to know. She stepped back and surveyed him, and her smile was appreciative. “Not that it doesn’t look damned good on you, but you usually only haul that out of mothballs around Veterans and Memorial Day.”

The question made Steve frown, and he studied his reflection again. “You think it’s too much? I dunno, it’s what I would have worn if we’d gotten to do it back then, so I figured... you’re right, it’s stupid.” Why the Hell had this seemed like a good idea? Small wonder he couldn’t shake that nightmare, he’d been wearing this in the dream too.

He reached for the knot, intending to strip it out one last time, but Natasha caught his hands before he got that far. “Stop second guessing yourself,” she scolded him. “I think it was a good instinct, and she’ll appreciate the gesture. Trust me, she’s just as nervous as you are. She was in the middle of redoing her hair for at least the third time when I decided to come check on you.”

Oddly enough, knowing that Peggy was no less uncertain than he was made Steve feel even worse. It emphasized that she also thought this was important, and that meant he wasn’t just being silly in trying so hard to make this night perfect.

Turning his hands in Natasha’s, Steve squeezed gently. Her fingers were soft, and he’d learned that she had to put a lot of effort into keeping them that way, using lotions and creams to soften the callus that otherwise would have formed from holding her guns. Personally Steve wouldn’t have minded at all if her hands were rougher, but when he’d mentioned it she’d shrugged and said that it would be out of place for most of her cover identities.

“Are you _sure_ you’re okay with this?” he asked, searching her face intently for any sign of jealousy or resentment. The only emotion he found was irritation, as she rolled her eyes at him.

“Life doesn’t give out a whole lot of second chances, Steve,” she said, tightening her fingers around his in return. “You’ve been waiting seventy years for this dance. If you throw this opportunity away, I will shoot you myself. Is that clear enough to make you stop asking me?”

Despite himself Steve had to chuckle. “Sorry, I guess I have been asking a lot, haven’t I.” Natasha had been incredibly patient about the whole thing. 

“Just a few times,” she said, her voice as dry as desert sand. “It’s nice to know you care, but seriously, you can give it a rest now. You’ve got my permission and approval, neither of which you actually need, so go and _dance_ already.”

She pushed at him, shoving him towards the doorway, but Steve planted his feet and refused to be budged. Instead he leaned down and caught her mouth with his, trying to put his appreciation for her tolerance and understanding into actions instead of useless words.

It must have worked, because her smile was soft and affectionate when he pulled away again - and then she laughed. “Now you’ve got lipstick smears, which are _not_ what a girl wants to see when you pick her up for a date.”

Flushing, Steve turned back to the mirror and quickly washed the smudges off. Once that was done, he really didn’t have any further reason to keep stalling. He looked good, Natasha had made it perfectly clear she was fine with him going... all that was left was to actually _go_.

Taking a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders. “All right, I can do this.”

“Go get her, tiger.” Natasha winked at him, and pushed again to get him out the door.

Each of the Avengers had been assigned individual apartments in the Tower for convenience sake - they often came back in the wee hours, badly banged up and in no shape to do anything but stagger off the quinjet and into the nearest bed, especially since most of them didn’t have alternate homes anywhere nearby. Tony had made it clear that the space was still theirs even though operations were no longer based here. It was a coincidence that Natasha’s rooms were right next to Steve’s, but he was grateful for it now. If he’d had to go more than a few steps, he half thought he might have chickened out after all.

Peggy answered the door when he knocked, and Steve had to just stand there for a moment, breathless at the sight of her. Her hair fell to her shoulders in shining waves that looked artless but, if Natasha’s words were any indication, must have taken considerable effort to get perfect. Her makeup subtly enhanced already lovely features, and she’d put on heels that brought her closer to his height.

And she was wearing a red dress.

Not the same dress as that night in the bar, obviously, but it was reminiscent enough that he knew she’d chosen it on purpose, and he also knew he’d made the right decision to wear his uniform. 

Over the years Steve had wondered if time and distance had made his memory of her unrealistic, too perfect, highlighting the good qualities and forgetting about the bad. But she was even more amazing in reality than she had been in his dreams, strong and confident and completely at ease with herself.

Beautiful, too. That didn’t hurt any.

They stared at each other for a long moment, and Steve couldn’t find the right words to say. He knew he should compliment her, tell her how good she looked, but the words were bottled up behind all the other things he’d wanted to say to her for so long, and thought he would never get the chance to.

“Is that for me?” she finally asked, and there was a touch of huskiness to her voice that suggested she was having just as hard a time as he was.

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” Feeling foolish, Steve offered the small corsage he’d bought for her, a miniature bouquet of real flowers attached to a brooch pin. Natasha had told him to get something white and blue, and he understood why as he carefully pinned it into place on the shoulder of the red dress. It was Natasha’s quirky sense of humour showing, tricking him into basically staking his claim by marking Peggy with his signature colours, but it did look damned good.

“You look amazing,” he managed to get the words out at last. Not for the first time he wished he knew how to flirt with the ease Bucky used to have, so that he could say something perfect and charming instead of such a trite phrase, but it just wasn’t his style.

The way she smiled in response to his words suggested she didn’t mind the lack of flattery. “You don’t clean up half bad yourself.” She’d put her hands in his at some point, or maybe he’d caught hers first. All Steve was really aware of was the warmth of her skin against his, the understated fragrance of her perfume enhancing her own natural scent, and the soft look in her eyes as she gazed back at him.

A bright flash from his left pulled his attention away from Peggy, and Steve turned to find Natasha leaning in the doorway of his apartment, a digital camera in her hands. “Sorry,” she apologized when she saw they were both looking at her. Laughter danced in her eyes, and Steve knew she wasn’t contrite in the least. “I don’t mean to intrude, but it had to be done. You’ll thank me later, it’s going to be a really good picture.”

“All things considered, I’m the one who’s intruding here, not you,” Peggy told her, releasing Steve’s hands. “Are you certain you’re all right with this?”

“Don’t you start!” Natasha gave Peggy an exasperated look. “I just got him to stop asking. Did you practice together this afternoon or something? You’ve got exactly the same tone.”

The delicate blush that swept over Peggy’s face was a match for the heat Steve could feel on his own cheeks, and the answering smile she gave Natasha was rueful. “I just wanted to make it clear that I appreciate your understanding, Agent Romanoff.”

“Natasha, please. Technically I’m not ‘Agent’ anymore, and calling me ‘Black Widow’ would be a little awkward.” Natasha smiled at them both. “Besides, anyone this important to Steve is someone I’m hoping to be friends with.”

“Oh, you have friends now?” Steve teased her. “When did that happen, and did I ever get to be on the list?”

“What can I say, Rogers, you’ve been a bad influence.” Natasha shrugged. “Anyway I’m not in that business these days. I’m a superhero now, not a spy. Superheroes can have friends, right? Superfriends?”

“I think regular friends will be fine,” Peggy laughed. “And I’d like that. Please, call me Peggy. Regardless, thank you.”

“If you both don’t stop thanking me for not caring about something that’s none of my business and just go, I’m going to change my mind and start objecting just to be contrary.” Natasha made shooing motions at them, but she was still smiling so Steve knew she wasn’t really as frustrated as she was pretending to be.

“I dunno, does it still count as my own time if you’re standing right there?” he asked, just to needle her. “Wouldn’t that make it your business?”

“You know I was serious about shooting you, right?” she replied, her voice too sweet to be real.

“We’re going, we’re going.” Laughing, Steve turned and offered his arm to Peggy. She took it with only a hint of hesitation, though she was looking between him and Natasha with an uncertain expression.

“It’s probably none of _my_ business, and feel free to tell me so,” Peggy commented as the elevator door closed behind them and left them in privacy. “Why does she keep saying that? It seems fairly clear that the two of you are... involved?”

The rise in her voice at the end of the last word turned it into a question, even though her phrasing had been a statement. Steve shrugged, pondering how to try to explain what lay between him and Natasha. “It’s complicated,” he settled on, and huffed a soft laugh at his own understatement. “Most things involving Natasha are. The modern world looks at dating pretty differently than we’re used to, and her views are odd even by those standards. She’s not the jealous type, I guess is the relevant point.”

The explanation didn’t even begin to scratch the surface of the matter, and probably wasn’t all that satisfying to her, but Steve didn’t really want to get into it. The arrangement between him and Natasha worked well for them, but he knew how it would look to Peggy. He didn’t want to have to tell this woman of all people about why he’d given up on old dreams of a home and a family.

Thankfully she seemed to sense his reluctance, or maybe she just didn’t want to dwell on the idea of his relationship with another woman. Instead she started a story about a ridiculous escapade Howard had gotten into that apparently involved three women, a very large cheesecake, and undoubtedly far too much booze. By the time they made it to ground level Steve was laughing too hard to worry about anything else, and they stepped out into the lobby holding hands and smiling.

The soundproofing in Avengers Tower was top of the line, of course. Nothing Tony touched was ever anything less. Even so the street noise was audible all the way across the lobby, and when they opened the door it became overwhelming.

Peggy didn’t quite stumble, but he felt the hesitation in her gait. Steve steadied her, remembering his own first exposure to modern New York with deep sympathy. They’d landed the quinjet on the launch pad at the top of the tower, so this was the first time Peggy had seen the changes up close.

He waited patiently for her to absorb it all, and after a few minutes she sighed. “Is there a single square foot of the city that’s _not_ lit up?” she asked, and her voice was only a little shaky as she stared at one of the giant flashing electronic billboards.

“Probably somewhere, but I haven’t found it yet,” Steve replied, squeezing her hand. It was an exaggeration, of course, but compared to the city they both remembered it certainly seemed that way some times. “This ain’t nearly the worst of it, you should see Times Square. Are you up for a walk, or would you rather take a taxi? The dance club’s not far.”

He saw her size up congestion of the traffic on the road, and wasn’t surprised when she shook her head. “I can’t say the night air is exactly refreshing, but I think I’d rather walk.”

By the time they’d gone a few blocks Peggy had gotten over most of her shock and was looking around with unabashed curiosity. Steve wasn’t sure how well she’d gotten to know New York after the war, though he knew she’d lived here for a time. He was a native and even he’d felt like a tourist for the first few months he spent in the modern version of his city.

They earned a few strange looks, probably for his antiquated uniform and the forties-inspired style she’d chosen, but nobody commented. If anyone recognized him they didn’t pester him about it, which Steve was grateful for. He never minded paying attention to his fans, but dealing with a mob of people asking for autographs and photos wasn’t what he wanted to spend the night on.

Especially since far too many of the women - and even some of the men - would undoubtedly try to throw themselves at him. He didn’t have his shield handy if Peggy decided to take offense and shoot at him again.

The memory made him chuckle, and she glanced up at him with a curious expression. “Just thinking about the day I picked out my shield, and how I’m relieved nobody’s recognized me,” he told her, and was gratified when she laughed as well.

It also saddened him, a little. He shared so much history with Peggy, so many things Natasha could never be part of. Not just the time they’d spent together but the experiences, the knowledge of the way life had been back then. There was a reason that Steve had become friends with just about every remaining WWII veteran in the city. They were the only ones who could understand certain things without needing any kind of explanation, who looked at the world the same way he did.

He cared for Natasha, deeply. Maybe a lot deeper than he’d meant to when the whole thing started between them. He was more comfortable with her presence in his life than he had ever felt with anyone but Bucky and he’d never give her up without a fight. But she would never quite understand him the way Peggy could.

Music and laughter spilled out through the doors as they approached the club, and Steve was relieved to hear the unmistakable sound of big band music. He’d been half afraid Natasha would show her sense of humour again by sending them to a modern dance club, but he should have trusted her. She knew what this meant to him.

“It’s not the Stork Club, but that doesn’t exist anymore,” he half apologized to Peggy. 

“It’s perfect,” she assured him. “Come on, then. I do believe they’re playing our song.”

The music wasn’t anything Steve recognized, but it didn’t matter. Whatever was playing when they danced would be their song forever.

The band was live, and as Steve and Peggy stepped through the door they shifted to something jazz with a slower tempo. The floor was half full, couples dancing enthusiastically in variations of the same sort of moves he remembered seeing in dance halls during the war, most of them even wearing clothes that mimicked the lines of clothing back then. It wasn’t really like stepping into the past, but it was the closest thing Steve had found yet.

He froze, his heart suddenly pounding in double time. Was the music familiar after all? Was it the same song that had been playing in Wanda’s vision? He lived it over and over again in his nightmares, one more thing to haunt him in the night. Was he just dreaming this? How could Peggy really be with him?

How could any of it be real? This wasn’t his place anymore, he didn’t belong here. The world had left him behind and no matter how hard he struggled to catch up, how much he pretended he could fit in, the place where he truly belonged was gone.

He could never go home, because there was no home left for him to go to.

“Steve? Steve, what’s wrong? You’re hurting me.” Peggy’s voice reached him only distantly, just another part of the past that was lost. If he answered her, if he turned to her, she’d disappear and he’d be alone again. Just like always.

Sharp pain sliced through the feeling of dislocation that had caught him, snapping him back to the present. Wincing, he turned to see what had caused it, and found Peggy digging her nails hard into the back of his hand.

For good reason - he was holding on so tightly he could almost feel the fragile bones grinding beneath her skin. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he exclaimed as he hastily let go, then winced again for his language. Tony had been a bad influence on him. At least none of the others were here to overhear. Peggy had heard worse from him in the trenches, as much as he’d tried to avoid it, but he was usually better than that in public.

“What happened?” Peggy was flexing her hand gingerly and rubbing it with the other, but she didn’t seem angry, just concerned. “You looked panicked. Surely you can’t be that worried about stepping on my toes?”

The words were clearly meant to be both a joke and a graceful out for him if he needed it. Steve shook his head. It might not be something he could discuss with Natasha, but Peggy deserved the truth. “There’s... I have this... dream.” 

He didn’t want to explain the way Wanda had twisted their minds the first time the Avengers had fought her. Peggy had been nervous enough about having the other woman inside her head, he didn’t want to add to that fear. At least she’d gotten a clean bill of health out of the experience. HYDRA hadn’t needed to brainwash her to get what they wanted, and in fact it served their purposes better for her to remember everything and be completely herself. It meant her reactions to Bucky were genuine, and it affected him that much worse as a result when they punished him by hurting her.

She put a hand on his arm, looking up at him encouragingly, and Steve realized he was deliberately distracting himself. Somehow he forced himself to continue. “It starts exactly like this, with all the music and dancing. You’re there, and you ask if I’m ready for our dance. But as soon as I turn to you, the moment I take you in my arms... it’s all gone. I’m just standing alone, in an empty room, and it’s all gone.”

It sounded incredibly pathetic when he said it out loud, just as he’d feared it would. What kind of darkest terror was that? But words could never explain the deep impact it had on him, or how he felt in that instant when it all slipped through his fingers and vanished.

Maybe he didn’t really need to explain, because Peggy stepped into his space and pressed against him, her arms circling his waist to cling tightly. He flinched when she did it, still half expecting her to disappear, but she remained warm and solid against him. Slowly he raised his hands to her shoulders, then slipped his arms around her in turn, holding her close.

“I’m here, Steve,” she said, softly but firmly. “It’s all real. Just breathe.”

He obeyed her order, concentrating on inhaling and exhaling in a steady rhythm, and it did help. She tugged him away from the door, into a quieter back corner, and that helped too. He rested his cheek against the top of her head, enjoying the scent of whatever she’d used on her hair. After a minute or two he was able to pry himself off her again, sliding his hands down to hold hers as he took a step back, looking down at her sheepishly.

“How’d you get so good at that?” he asked. It seemed like she’d known exactly what to do to reach him through the terror, and then how to calm him down afterwards.

Her expression didn’t quite manage to be a smile, and there was a sort of agonized sorrow in her eyes that stabbed at his heart. “That month I spent trying to help Bucky. The things they did to him, Steve...” Her voice broke, and tears filled her eyes though they didn’t quite spill over. “He got lost in his head sometimes. One moment he’d be fine and then I’d say or do something to set him off and he’d turn angry, or even violent. Once he started trusting me I was sometimes able to prevent a bad spell before it happened - or at least to comfort him when he felt guilty afterwards.”

“Did he hurt you?” Steve’s stomach clenched at the thought, and he studied her face like he’d be able to see where the injuries had been if he just looked hard enough. If anyone else had ever laid a hand on her... well, she was perfectly capable of defending herself. But he’d probably have hunted them down afterwards and reinforced the lesson she taught them.

This was different. Bucky wasn’t an enemy either of them could face down, and neither of them would want to try. The thought of her being treated badly still tore at Steve inside, though.

“Not seriously, for the most part. He was holding back, he never _wanted_ to hurt me, I could tell.” She sighed. “Then one night I got too close to him after a bad dream - he was on his feet, I thought he was awake, but he wasn’t. He very nearly killed me before I managed to get through to him. Bucky was terrified it would happen again, and I was terrified he would do something drastic to make certain that it didn’t.”

“That’s when you brought Zola in,” Steve guessed, and she nodded.

“I was a fool,” Peggy said, her voice bitter. 

“Hey, he fooled everyone, not just you.” Steve lifted a hand to cup her face, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “You did your best, Peg. And you’ve suffered enough for the mistake, you don’t need to beat yourself up about it, too.”

“Now why does that sound like the voice of experience talking?” she said, and her smile was real this time. “Or perhaps the voice of hypocrisy?”

“Maybe a little,” Steve admitted with a chuckle. “So, how about that dance? Now that I’m sure I’m not living a nightmare, I’d kind of like to live the dream instead.”

She allowed him to draw her onto the dance floor, where the enthusiasm of the other dancers was catching. Steve didn’t know any of the fancy steps the others were using, but at least all his fighting training meant he wasn’t as likely to step on Peggy’s toes as he once would have been. They settled into the rhythm, and for a while Steve forgot to worry about darkness and nightmares.

It felt like... coming home. That feeling he’d thought he would never, _could_ never, have again. Something inside Steve that had been hurting for so long he’d forgotten what it was like to live without it finally eased, and the first seed of hope dared to take root in his heart. 

It was a ridiculous hope, he knew that. Steve wasn’t willing to lose Natasha, not even if it meant he could be with Peggy. Which, actually, told him right there that the relationship had gotten a lot more serious than he’d intended it to be. Somehow he hadn’t noticed it happening at the time, but the hole her absence would leave in his life was too painful to contemplate.

Yes, Natasha seemed to genuinely have no problems with the idea of sharing him with another woman. At least in the short term, but he thought she truly didn’t begrudge his love for Peggy. They just might be able to make it work, and maybe it would even make her stop fretting that someday he’d realize he was unhappy with things between them.

But how could he possibly expect Peggy to be willing to share him with Natasha? That was just selfish, and greedy. He was trying to have his cake and eat it, too. Not to mention it would be unfair to Peggy, who had every right to expect a man who would be faithful and devoted to her. 

And yet... and yet.

They danced until the club closed, and by the last songs they’d even picked up on some of the advanced steps of the dancers around them. Steve was breathless, but not with exertion; it was the happiness bubbling up inside him that left him feeling like there wasn’t enough room left over in his chest for mere air. No disasters had befallen them, and the night had been everything he’d ever wanted it to be.

Well, the dancing part had been. His plans for the original date might have included a few after-hours activities that Steve didn’t think he’d likely be enjoying tonight. Not with Peggy, anyway.

“So, tell me about Sousa,” he asked as they strolled hand in hand back to the Tower. He needed to distract himself from those kinds of thoughts, and talking about her husband seemed like the perfect way to do it. “I mean, if it’s not too painful?” Technically Peggy had been a widow for decades, but he had to remember she’d only just found out about it. “The... other you... she didn’t talk about him much. I was never sure if she didn’t remember, if it hurt too much to think about him, or if she was just embarrassed to talk to me about another guy.”

“You would have liked him a great deal, I think,” she replied with no hesitation, smiling up at him. “I always regretted that I couldn’t introduce the two of you.”

“Was he good to you?” Steve assumed the answer was yes, he couldn’t imagine Peggy putting up with a guy who didn’t treat her right. But he wanted to hear it from her.

“From the very beginning.” Peggy laughed. “He was the only one in the SSR office who thought I could be useful for more than just making coffee and taking lunch orders. I always appreciated that.”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Steve exclaimed, staring at her. “After everything you did during the war, everything you proved you were capable of, they had you taking _lunch orders_? That’s like... like...”

“Like putting Captain America in a chorus line instead of the front lines?” she finished for him, eyes sparkling. “I never let it stop me, though it was occasionally inconvenient having to do my real job by going behind my superiors’ backs.”

“Small wonder you ended up helping to found SHIELD, if that’s the kind of treatment you were getting.” Steve shook his head, amazed and disgusted all over again at the unreasoning chauvinism Peggy had to deal with. 

Not that he hadn’t been guilty of it himself, in the beginning. He still got embarrassed whenever he thought of his ‘beautiful dame’ comment to her on the way in to the labs. But he’d learned, fast, that there was so much more to her than the fact that her uniform required a skirt instead of pants. Why did other men have so much trouble with that lesson?

“I certainly made best efforts to ensure SHIELD’s policy towards female agents was a bit more liberal,” Peggy agreed. “And Daniel backed me every step of the way. A lesser man might have been threatened by the fact that his wife was also his superior officer, but never him.” She sighed, and some of the brightness left her expression. “Truly, I was the one who wasn’t nearly good enough to him.”

“I doubt that,” Steve felt compelled to defend her. Peggy, not good enough for someone? He couldn’t even imagine it.

“In many ways I was married to my work,” she told him. “I regret that, now. I didn’t devote as much time to Daniel as I could have. Everything always seemed so urgent, and I thought we’d have plenty of time together later. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson after what happened with you! But I’m afraid that’s not even the worst of it - I was unfaithful to him.”

“ _You_?” Steve stopped short on the sidewalk, staring at her. Peggy, breaking her vows? That went beyond just unbelievable. She took her promises every bit as seriously as he did, that was one of the things he’d always loved about her. “There must be a really damned good story behind _that_.”

“It was Bucky,” she admitted, and her smile turned sad. “During that month we spent alone together, things got very... emotionally intense. I could see that I was heading down a path I shouldn’t be following, but I couldn’t find any way to change direction without hurting or abandoning Bucky. And that, I refused to do. He needed me so very badly.”

“You... and _Bucky_?” Steve felt a little like she’d just slapped him - stunned, and his ears were ringing. It wasn’t that he couldn’t picture it. They were his two closest friends, he loved them both, of course he’d hoped they would eventually come to love each other. Not quite that _way_ , but with Steve gone - and especially with Bucky so hurt and vulnerable - yeah, he could picture it. All too easily. They’d make a beautiful couple.

“Zola used it against him, twisted Bucky’s feelings for me until they were just another form of punishment, but that didn’t make them any less real,” Peggy said, her hand tightening on his until her nails drove into his skin again. Steve didn’t protest, just let her have the support she so clearly needed. 

Her eyes were distant, angry, focused on her memories rather than the present. “Sometimes, when Bucky performed particularly well on a mission, they’d let me out so he could spend some time with me. I had to be very careful what I said and did - if they thought I was trying to incite him to rebellion in any way, we’d both be punished. He didn’t remember exactly who I was or why he loved me, but he’d... God, Steve, he’d just sit there, next to me, and ask me to sing to him. He said all he wanted was to hear my voice, that it made the pain inside him go away for a little while.”

Her voice broke, and Steve could feel a lump in his own throat. What she was describing was horrific, and somehow it hurt worse than imagining all the torture Bucky had undoubtedly gone through. Knowing that literally the only good thing in his best friend’s life had been the few hours when they allowed him to sit and listen to the woman he loved sing for him... it was sickening.

“It felt wrong to reward him for doing what they wanted, for killing people and creating chaos, but how could I not?” Peggy continued after swallowing a couple of times. “He’d already suffered so much, and he was doing what they wanted to protect _me_. If I could give him even the tiniest bit of comfort, I had to do it.”

That fragile seedling of hope in Steve’s heart withered and died as quickly as it had sprouted, though its destruction was a great deal more painful than its creation. Daniel Sousa was long dead and no obstacle to Steve rekindling a romance with Peggy, but Bucky was another matter entirely. 

It was obvious that Peggy’s feelings for Bucky were very real and very intense. How could they not be, with everything she’d just described? In some ways it was the best possible situation because God, Bucky was going to need all the love and support Peggy could give him, so much. It might even make the difference in his recovery.

And when it came right down to it, Steve couldn’t steal his best friend’s best girl. Not even if she’d been his best girl first.

“Steve?” Peggy looked up at him, and her voice turned hesitant. Her expression was worried, on the edge of downright concerned. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think... we never meant to hurt you. We thought you were _dead_. You know if things had gone the way we thought they would, he would never have... _I_ would never have...”

“What?” It took a moment for Steve to realize that Peggy thought he was upset at _them_ for falling in love, not at himself for the lost chance. “God, no, Peg, I’m not mad. I’m _happy_ for you guys. I mean, not happy, obviously, it’s horrible. Not horrible that you love him, horrible that they... you know what? I should just shut up now.” 

Steve sighed and followed his own advice. All these years, and they’d apparently pretty much come full circle to the ‘beautiful dame’ conversation. You’d think at some point he’d have learned to stop tripping over himself when he got flustered. Hell, you’d think he’d learn to stop getting flustered.

At least she was laughing now, even if the sound was somewhat watery. “It’s good to know some things don’t change,” she teased him, wiping the corners of her eyes. “You’ve been so smooth speaking to Natasha I thought perhaps you’d finally gotten the hang of talking to women.”

“Nat was my partner for years before we got together,” Steve replied dryly. “I think that might have made the difference. I never had any trouble talking to you in the field either, just when I was trying to be casual.” 

He tugged at her hand and they got moving again, and he tried hard not to dwell on everything she’d just told him. Instead he asked her about what had become of the other Commandos after the war. He already knew, of course; he’d looked them up at the same time he’d checked on her. But seeing the flat details that had been typed into their official files wasn’t the same as having been there, and she had plenty of stories to tell that hadn’t made it into the dossiers.

In the hallway outside their apartments Steve turned to face her, and suddenly everything was awkward again. If this had been a real date, right now was when he’d kiss her before they parted, but was that appropriate? Natasha wouldn’t mind, and Bucky wouldn’t even know to care, but still. “Peggy, I...”

He could see the same conflicting emotions he was feeling chasing across her face as well. Then determination overcame the rest. “Oh, I think surely we deserve one goodnight kiss, don’t you?”

She said ‘goodnight’ but he heard ‘goodbye’, and he knew she’d meant him to. “Yeah, that’s fair,” he agreed, fighting to keep his voice steady. If this was his last kiss with her, he wasn’t going to ruin it with regrets.

He was also by God going to take his time and enjoy it, the way they’d never had a chance to do during the war. Resting one hand on her waist, he drew her close and slid the other over the curve of her neck, his thumb brushing her jawline before he twined his fingers in the hair at the back of her head. She wrapped her arms around his neck and stretched up as he leaned down, and they met somewhere in the middle.

Steve had learned a few things since the last time he’d kissed Peggy - much as he hated to admit Natasha had been right about the whole practice issue. He went slowly, first brushing their mouths together, then pressing more firmly, his tongue lightly tracing the seam between her lips. She gave a tiny gasp that parted her lips for him, and he dipped his tongue inside to meet hers.

It started out gentle and lazy, but the heat built between them fast. She’d moved her hands at some point and now she was stroking, almost petting at his chest. He remembered her fascination when he’d first been transformed, the way she’d reached out and then snatched her hand back as if she hadn’t been able to help herself. It was always the first place she touched him on the rare occasions they did have a chance to do a little more than just kiss.

He didn’t even realize he’d been pushing Peggy toward the wall until they fetched up against it, one of his legs wedged between hers so they could press that much closer together. Steve closed his teeth gently on her lower lip, and the sound she made went straight to his groin. 

Some part of him knew he needed to stop. He needed to stop _right now_ , because if he didn’t, he wasn’t going to.

Reluctantly he tore his mouth from hers, but he couldn’t bring himself to move any further than that. He rested his forehead against the wall over her shoulder, panting for air and trying to remember _why_ it was so important that he stop. He’d wanted to do that with her for so damned long.

Natasha. Bucky. Right. Yeah, he had to stop. He’d succeeded at that part, now he just needed to do the rest of it and walk away.

She didn’t seem to be faring any better than him. He could feel the sharp rise and fall of her chest against his, and he thought the leg he still had between hers might be the only thing keeping her on her feet, because an awful lot of her weight was resting on it. When he did manage to pull away and look down at her, she appeared every bit as dazed as he felt.

“That... that counted as one kiss, right?” she said, breathless. “I mean we didn’t actually break contact at any point, so that’s just one. We were allowed to have one.”

“Yeah. Sorry, I got a little carried away,” Steve replied, trying not to stare at the way her lipstick was smudged and her lips seemed almost bruised. Not as if he’d hurt her, but just... well-kissed. Inviting.

“God, don’t apologize,” Peggy laughed. “If you’d kissed like that during the war, we bloody well wouldn’t have waited for that dance.”

He jerked his eyes up to hers, certain he’d misunderstood what she was implying, and her cheeks turned pink. “I said that last part out loud, didn’t I,” she asked in a fatalistic sort of tone. 

Steve couldn’t quite stop a grin from twitching at his lips as he nodded. It might have been just a little bit smug. She clearly saw it, because she swatted him on the arm, and then she started giggling. He’d heard her laugh before, but not _giggle_ , like she was giddy or drunk. The sound was contagious, and the next thing he knew they were leaning on each other for support not from arousal, but because they were laughing too hard to stand otherwise.

This time when he pulled away he managed to do it properly, stepping back and putting space between them. “Thank you,” he said, still smiling. “I’m really glad we got the chance to do this.”

“As am I.” Her smile was just as light as his. “This is a regret that’s hung over me for years. It’s not often you have a chance to discharge something like that, especially considering we both had to return from the dead to do it. We’ll stay close, won’t we? Good friends?”

“You have to ask?” Steve arched an eyebrow at her. “You know I'd do anything for you. Dating, married, haven’t seen each other in seventy years, doesn’t matter. Nothing will change that.” He hesitated, wondering if he should say it, but in the end it felt like he needed to. “I love you, Peggy.”

“And I, you.” There was a hint of sadness in her eyes, grief at the parting, but the joy of their friendship remained. Steve was reassured by that, because the last thing he ever wanted was to lose Peggy again.

“Goodnight, Steve,” she whispered, and finally pressed her hand against the plate beside Natasha’s door. It opened to let her into the dark rooms beyond, and as it slid closed again Steve’s last sight of her was her smile, like the Cheshire Cat. He held the image to him like a precious gem; it was the very next thing going into his sketchbook.

Blowing his breath out hard, Steve leaned on the wall and thumped his head against it a couple of times. Letting her go might have been the most difficult thing he’d ever done. His body was aching with need, and he _knew_ she’d felt the same way. If he’d pushed, he didn’t think she’d have stopped him. If _she’d_ pushed, even a little, he didn’t think he’d have had the strength to say no.

But they had stopped, and that was good. Really, that was good. He’d convince himself eventually.

Would it be too weird for him to go to Natasha when he was this worked up because of Peggy? That seemed wrong, somehow. Maybe he should just sleep on the couch, because if he went to bed with her when he felt like this, it wasn’t going to matter how wrong it was.

“It’s me,” he called as he entered his suite. Natasha was paranoid - even though both the elevator and the door were genetically coded to only respond to the correct people, there was always the _chance_ someone could break in. He’d learned early on in their relationship to identify himself as he came in.

There was no response, and he frowned. Well, it was pretty late, she might have gone to bed already, though it was unusual for her not to wake up when the door opened. Moving through the apartment, he paused in the bedroom doorway. The bed was untouched, still perfectly made from when he’d straightened it this morning, corners folded with military precision.

Turning around, he surveyed the living room, and confirmed that she hadn’t fallen asleep on a couch or something. The bathroom and kitchen were both empty as well, so unless she was hiding in a closet there wasn’t anywhere else to look. “Friday, what’s Natasha’s location?”

“Ms. Romanoff is not in the building, captain.”

It was still a little strange to hear the unfamiliar female voice instead of Jarvis, but Steve was coming to like her. Her sense of humour wasn’t as dry as Jarvis’, but she was always friendly. Never mind Natasha’s insistence that a computer couldn’t really have a sense of humour, just the semblance of one. Steve had definitely heard Jarvis tweak Tony’s tail, more than once.

“Huh.” Steve checked his phone, but there were no texts or voice mails. If she’d left a message for him with the computer, Friday would have announced that as soon as he came through the door. 

Maybe she’d just figured she’d take the opportunity for a night out of her own. They _had_ been spending more time together than not, lately. She tended to get antsy when she realized that was happening, and would keep to herself for a while as if she was trying to prove that she still could. But it was unusual for her to just leave without a note of some kind.

It was just barely possible she’d left the note in her own apartment, if she’d been in too much of a hurry for some reason to come into his. Telling himself that he was _not_ trying to justify an excuse to see Peggy again so soon, he made his way back into the hall and knocked on her door.

“Just a moment!” he heard her call, and she sounded surprised. When she opened the door she was dressed in a silk robe that was demurely tied across the front to show no cleavage... but which hit her about mid-thigh.

“Uh...” Steve lost his train of thought. Hell, he didn’t just lose it, the train was completely derailed. Presumably she hadn’t been able to find anything more covering to throw on. It was _Natasha’s_ wardrobe, after all. But God damn, she looked incredible.

It was a serious effort to keep his eyes firmly on her face, but he managed. That made him think of how he and Natasha had first gotten together, which didn’t help any, except that it did because it reminded him how important it was that he grant her that respect. 

“Change your mind?” Peggy asked. It sounded like she was trying for an arch tone, but the breathless quality of her voice turned it into an invitation instead. Or maybe that was just Steve’s poor, overheated brain talking.

He groaned, and had to clench his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her. “God, Peggy, don’t tempt me.” The words came out just short of a growl, and the way she shivered in response did not help his self control.

“You’re the one that came knocking,” she pointed out.

Sternly, Steve hauled his thoughts back onto the right track. “Did you see a note from Natasha? She apparently left the building, but it’s strange for her not to let me know she’s going out.”

“A note? No, I didn’t see anything, but I wasn’t really looking. Do you think she’s all right?” Concern edged out arousal, which helped Steve to focus as well.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” he assured her. “Would you mind if I came in for a minute to check her gear? If anything’s missing, that will tell me something at least.”

“Of course.” Peggy stepped back out of the doorway, retreating almost into the kitchen to make sure Steve wouldn’t brush against her as he entered. Part of Steve regretted the move, but the rest of him applauded her for the good sense. One of them needed to show some, and it definitely wasn’t something he was managing right now.

The moment the door closed behind him Friday announced, “There’s a message for you, Captain Rogers.” Peggy looked around quickly for the source of the voice, but of course there was no physical sign of the computer. Steve would have to explain later.

“Why didn’t you tell me when I came into my apartment?” he asked, confused. “Was it left just now?”

“My instructions were to wait until you and Ms. Sousa were together in a private location, captain.”

“Uh-huh.” Things were starting to become a little clearer, now. Steve sighed, but he knew he needed to listen to the message just in case he was wrong. “Playback please, Friday.”

A holographic image of Natasha appeared in midair. She was dressed in her Black Widow gear, though not heavily armed as she would be if she was going into combat. “Hey, lovebirds,” she greeted them with a sly smile. “Hope you had a good time. I figured I’d clear out and give you two some space, keep things from getting awkward. Besides which, we can’t let the base run itself forever. I’ll call if I need you, Steve, but I think you’ve more than earned some down time.” She winked, and her smile slid all the way into a smirk. “Make sure you do what I would do.”

The image faded out, and Steve shook his head. That was pretty much what he’d expected. “You’re hilarious, as always,” he muttered, despite knowing she couldn’t hear him. 

“Do what I would do?” Peggy repeated, clearly bewildered. “Isn’t that usually the other way around? And did she just... did she just send you a Dear John letter so that _you_ could be with someone else?”

“No, she wasn’t breaking up with me.” The absurdity of it hit him and Steve had to laugh. It was such a typical Natasha thing to do, manipulating everything around her until the world rearranged itself to her satisfaction. Never mind what the people being manipulated thought about the matter.

Peggy was watching him with a mixture of confusion and impatience. “All right, _what_ is going on between the two of you,” she demanded. “Why did your girl just try to throw us into bed together?”

“Because she’s not my girl, not really,” Steve told her, resigned to the fact that he was going to have to explain. “That’s part of the rules. No restrictions, no jealousy. When we’re together we’re _together_ , but when we’re not it’s our own business.” He tried hard not to let defensiveness creep into his voice, because it wasn’t Peggy’s fault that his situation with Natasha was kind of embarrassing to explain.

She was frowning, but not as if she was judging him, at least. More like she was concerned for him. “And you’re happy with that?” she asked, tilting her head.

Steve considered the question. “I’m not sure happiness is what I was looking for at the time,” he admitted.

“What _were_ you looking for?”

He shrugged, struggling to put it into words. “Not to be alone, I guess. We’re good together, it works for us. I think she cares more than she wants to let on, but if it makes her feel better to pretend none of it matters to her, that’s all right. I ended up caring more than I meant to as well.”

A lot more. The whole point had been to have companionship without worrying about love, but Steve was starting to realize he’d not only crossed that bridge, he'd burned it behind him. He just wasn’t sure what to do about it, because if he tried to corner Natasha, she’d bolt.

He also wasn’t sure how it was _possible_ , because the very tangible evidence of why he’d thought he would never fall in love again was standing right in front of him, and nothing had changed about his feelings for her.

At least Peggy was looking thoughtful now, not like she was upset about it all. “So that’s it? We’re just supposed to fall into bed together, and then she’ll welcome you back later?”

“The thing Natasha sometimes forgets is that everyone doesn’t operate on the same parameters she does.” Steve gave Peggy a wry smile. “She’s trying to give me space to have something she knows I want, so I won’t resent her for stopping me from having it. But she hasn’t considered that you’ve got a say in it, too, and might not be happy with the idea. Not to mention she’s not accounting for your relationship with Bucky.”

“I won’t say the thought isn’t tempting,” Peggy admitted, her tone just as dry as his. “But I don’t want to do something we’ll end up regretting later. This night is supposed to be about getting rid of regrets, not gaining new ones.”

She crossed her arms beneath her breasts in a way that emphasized the soft swell of them beneath the silk. Steve didn’t _think_ she’d done it on purpose, but he had to look away to keep himself from paying too much attention to what the pose did to her body.

Personally Steve figured he was pretty much doomed to come away from this situation with regrets no matter how it played out. Either he’d regret missing the chance to be with her, or he’d regret having been with her because it would hurt her when he did go back to Natasha. Catch-22, wasn’t that the phrase people used? A no-win situation.

His body was being pretty clear about how it wanted him to solve the problem - if he was going to regret it either way, he could at least pick the option he’d enjoy in the short term. 

But Steve had never let his body rule him. Not when it was using physical failings to try to stop him from doing what he needed to do, and not when it was trying to override his mind with lust.

Peggy was Bucky’s. And that meant she was off limits. End of story.

A goodbye kiss was one thing, even if it had been one Hell of a kiss. Anything more would be wrong, and Steve damned well didn’t do things he knew were wrong. Not if he could help it, and he could help this.

Taking a breath, he let it out slowly, gathering his control as he did so. “All right. I’m going back to my room. Tomorrow I’ll take you out and show you around New York, all the places that have changed and all the places that haven’t. I’ll talk to Stark about arranging some press conferences, maybe, so we can get the word out there that you’ve been found and draw Bucky to us.”

“That sounds like a plan,” she agreed, and if her voice was a little too carefully steady, he chose not to notice it. He couldn’t afford to notice it if he wanted to actually stick to that plan.

Steve made it to the door without looking back, but like Lot’s wife, he couldn’t resist the temptation completely. He paused in the doorway, and saw that she was watching him go with a wistful but determined expression that pretty much matched what he was feeling. “I love you,” he told her one last time. 

He let the door shut behind him before he could hear her answer, because if he heard it, he knew he’d never have the strength to leave.


End file.
